


onism

by newphone_whodis



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mafiafell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Eventual Smut, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Master/Servant, Master/Slave, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader-Insert, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:09:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27888814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newphone_whodis/pseuds/newphone_whodis
Summary: Wrote this for fun, please excuse the grammar errors :))
Relationships: Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader, Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40





	1. every time i wake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tws at the bottom!
> 
> hi yall i hope you enjoy reading this :)

Thickets of green covered the area, all flowing and rustling with the cool spring breeze.

Shears in one gloved hand and a woven basket filled to the brim with vegetables and fruits in the other. With a final inspection, you decided that it was time to bring the produce inside and begin your other chores. Glancing up at the bare sky, hot sun beating down on slick skin, you could already tell that you were a good 2 hours behind. You lifted your aching body off the ground and wiped away the splotches of dust covering your uniform before heading towards the manor.

Once in the kitchen, you made fast work of cleaning before half-hazardly placing the perishables in the fridge for later use. You had to think of what to make for today but by looking at the stove’s clock, you decided to hastily flip through a recipe book.

Stew was easy to cook, right?

Setting a few carrots down on the cutting board, you could feel your eyelids drooping more and more with every minute that passed by.

All of this was routine, simply a mind-numbing order of sequences that played in front of you. As if you were playing some video game character rather than  _ you _ .

You began chopping, ignoring the fact that nearly every piece sloppily varied in shape and size. 

The air was still, silent, with nothing around. Now that you remembered, you were supposed to go out to town and run some errands, though it was too late now. You’d have to make a mental note and try to remember the next day. Maybe an actual note stuck to your forehead would work better?

The torpid haze your mind entered wasn’t uncommon and funny enough, you were sure that if anyone could look into your subconscious, they’d see nothing but static. Not a single damn cohesive thought. In fact, your hands seemed to be moving on its own, leaving you completely unaware of just how close to slicing–

_ Fuck. _

Sharp metal ripped through the side of your finger, leaving torn bloodied flesh in its wake. At least the pain managed to jolt you awake, stunned and doe-eyed at the crimsons drips. Letting the knife clatter onto the marble island and catching any stray droplets with a cupped hand, considering you didn’t feel like wasting time scrubbing the tile floor, you rushed towards the sink. However, this definitely wasn’t the first accident you’ve had – being naturally clumsy had the ‘perk’ of chaos following you wherever. You should’ve been able to quickly wipe everything down, fix yourself up and continue with your day. 

Yeah, that’s exactly what you were going to do! It’s not as if the mere sight of cuts made you want to pick, pick, pick until there was nothing but gore everywhere.

The faucet emitted a pitchy squeak as it turned, allowing a rush of cold water to run over your throbbing hand. Immediately, the pain dulled though the area continued to pulsate with anger.

Don’t look at it.

As the stream trickled, carrying any remains of blood along with it, a single chant repeated itself over and over: _ just grab the soap. _ Try as you might though, your hand just so happened to completely miss the dispenser and instead landed on the gash. Fingers tentatively explored, spreading the tissue apart, prodding and poking. The act of washing it long gone as you became entranced, relishing every sting that shot up your scarred arm. 

Footsteps and a clamor of distant voices pried your attention away. 

Suddenly, the urge to scrub away and bandage was the only thing you could think of. With a quick wipe, your hands were dried and ready to clasp together in front of your chest, ready to greet your Masters. 

You quickly scanned your clothes, searching for any crumb or odd wrinkle to smooth out.

See, the Fells were a proud bunch – all adorned with the finest jewelry and clothes that showed off their numerous scars, with each indent on their ancient bodies showcasing a sense of both self-worth and potency – and considering you were their one and only domestic, you had to make sure that you presented yourself well. Clean. Modest.  _ Worthy. _ The first week they brought you served to teach you exactly what would happen if you didn’t meet their expectations. Not that you went out of your way to disobey considering your past upbringing.

Memories of sticky sweat and warm flesh came to mind before a piercing voice tore you away from your thoughts. 

“TELL THEM THAT ON 3 O’CLOCK SHARP, WE’LL BE THERE.” A lanky skeletal figure, dressed in a solid black suit and hat with a scarlet dress shirt – all of which looked to cost more than your salary – entered the kitchen in less than two strides. His hands were sent into a flurry of wild motions to better convey his message across the room, even though he was only talking to one individual. Your skin prickled with anticipation and fear, ready for him to direct his attention towards you at any moment. It wasn’t as if you were expecting a blow or smack across the head, though he was very capable of doing either, but with such a shattering tone, it made your nerves peak.

“alright.” Now with this baritone voice, your stomach was sent fluttering. The nape of your neck shivered even as your eyes were directed towards the floor, not him. It was such a stupid, silly thing, acting flustered like some middle-schooler, so you bit your cheek and kept a stern yet solid face.

Well, you  _ did _ just cook and clean. So maybe just a quick glance at him, nothing could go wrong, right?

Although Sans was the shorter of the two, he still towered over you and made your pudgy body seem so much smaller than it actually was. Red. It was such a nice color. It covered his chest in the form of a button-up shirt along with black dress pants and suspenders that laid beside his hips; he never liked having them on once he was at the comfort of his own home. Your trailing eyes lingered on the rolled sleeves which rested at the junctions of his elbows, showcasing a variety of marks and torn crevices of his radius and ulna, giving him an especially rugged look. On his phalanges, thick studded rings, all gold and adorned to the brim. It worked to bring the whole fit together.

As you gawked at him, Sans caught your stare which prompted him to give an impish smirk, full of mischief, towards your way. You felt him scrolling your body, hungrily noticing just how snug your uniform was, accentuating every curve.

Okay, now you  _ really _ couldn’t hide the red flush that crept onto your cheeks so instead, you slowly lowered your gaze once more. A soft snicker was all you heard before Sans could continue listening to whatever his brother was rambling on about.

The arches of Papyrus’ sockets were furrowed as the single eyelight loomed over his stouter brother. “AND REMEMBER TO BRING THE LUGGAGE WITH YOU, UNLIKE LAST TIME WHEN YOU SO CONVENIENTLY ‘FORGOT’ IT.”

Sans pinched the bridge of his nasal bone, scrunching his face with frustration, “listen, boss, y’dun gotta tell me every fucking time–”

“LANGUAGE.”

Sans lightly scoffed and rolled his eyelights, deciding to direct his attention elsewhere, obviously finished with the conversation. And although Papyrus was clearly irritated by his brother’s outright dismissal, he held his tongue and chose to furiously tap his foot instead. Sans wandered towards the fridge, searching relentlessly for something until he was interrupted by you. 

“Master,” you presented a bottle of the finest mustard money could buy. Again, the Fells could only accept the best of the best.

It made you wonder why they chose you to work for them. 

With his head halfway in the fridge, he turned to you, smiling deeply at the condiment. His gaze turned to one of adoration when he saw the tiny hands clasping the glass container. “thanks, sweetheart.” His fingers gently caressed yours, leaving goosebumps at his wake, as he plucked it from your grasp. 

You swiftly nodded your head with a small, “yessir,” and stepped towards the cutting board to finish what you had started. After throwing the ingredients into a large pot and filling it with broth, you felt a presence hovering behind you.

“I THOUGHT I TAUGHT YOU HOW TO CHOP BETTER…” Papyrus stood firmly with his arms crossed, creasing his neatly ironed clothes. He was a mere few inches away from you. So close, in fact, that he managed to startle you – not that that was uncommon – and caused you to drop the ladle. However, before it clattered onto the floor, talons caught the metal spoon, catching it like an eagle would catch a small rabbit before devouring it.

Papyrus took a hold of your hand in a firm yet painless manner and placed the tool in your palm. The proximity of his hips to your rear was so close yet so far.

This is what frustrated you so dearly about your tall Master. Affection, to you, was translatable to physical touch. It was easy to understand what someone was looking for with a few vulgar passes and gropes. It made you calm, at ease. However, with someone like Papyrus, it confused you. He never went too far with… with  _ anything. _ It always left you so muddled in the head. 

“DO BETTER NEXT TIME.”

Before you could get too deep in thought, Papyrus had already stepped away and out of the kitchen.

A low whistle brought your attention back to Sans who was currently leaning against the refrigerator door. 

“heheh, he did a number t’ ya, huh sweetheart?” A red wet thing slipped out from his maw, catching a drip of mustard that nearly ruined his attire. Standing up straight, he placed the glass on the counter and began unbuckling his belt.

“c’mere, lemme take care a’ you…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWs: Mentions of self-harm


	2. you're there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has been a really fucking shit week so here, have another chapter :) it's a short one

The air was thick with smoke, filling your head with a sort of fuzziness. The rumbling rhythm of someone breathing nearly lulled you to sleep while the strumming hand on your naked back kept you lucid as it gently tickled your skin. Every time you nearly slipped into a dream, you were slowly jostled awake by Sans tapping his cigar into the ashtray on the nearby nightstand. 

“Mmm,” you mumbled, faintly showing how exasperated you were getting. With other Masters, you wouldn’t have dared complained but with Sans, you felt a certain calm. A calm which you hadn’t experienced with anyone else. Maybe it was stupid to let your guard down so easily but it was just so… nice. It was nice to hold onto someone and just  _ let go _ for the night.

“shh, shh, i gotcha.” After taking one last inhale, he set it down onto the tray and shuffled his body towards you with his arms wrapped snug around your tired body. With a deep sigh of his, thick ruby smoke came pouring out his nasal cavity, his half-closed eye sockets, his jaw. Everywhere. In the soft light of the moon, his bones almost seemed to illuminate a bright ivory shine. 

Beautiful. He looked beautiful.

Sans must’ve found your stunned expression funny since he started chuckling deeply to himself, “hmm, whatsa’ matter, doll? skeleton got yer tongue?” His now undecorated hand lifted to your chin, caressing the side of your cheek while tracing your bottom lip with his thumb.

You mistook the sign of affection as a request for more and so, you slipped the phalange into your mouth and bit gently on the tip. 

There was something in his eye. Although yes, there was lust, there was also adoration. It made your stomach wriggle with anticipation and unease. 

He dipped his head forward and you had to stop yourself from flinching away. A kiss. You couldn’t handle a silly, little kiss. However, he appeared to notice the hesitation and pulled away. The adoration was still there but there was a certain crook to it: pity. 

Now, a sheet of panic set aflame within you, burning any calm you previously had. What an idiot, you were  _ such _ an idiot. How could you dare show any reluctance to any desire your Master had? You were only a slut to them and you couldn’t even handle a  _ kiss? _ What was wrong with you? Now they were going to send you back, send you to the dark, send you to the cold, send you to the wet room–

“hey, hey…” Two broad hands were gripped around your shoulders, nearly covering your entire upper arms. They gently shook you away from the horrible mess you were thinking about and anchored you to the present.

“yer shakin’ like a leaf.”

What could you say to that? What could you do except stare at him with alarm and disorientation? 

But apparently, Sans was okay with a lack of response from you. Instead of pushing you further, he laid you back down on the bed – you didn’t realize you got up – and covered your unclothed body with silk sheets. 

He held onto you tight until the two of you were softly snoring in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u liked!


	3. yet when i remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloo againn, tws are at the bottom!! hope yall enjoy this chapter, it was fun to write hehe

Standing in front of you was a very empty-looking fridge. Some of the vegetables had started to wilt, there weren’t any eggs or milk, and worst of all, you were running out of mustard. 

You pursed your lips in annoyance since going to the nearby town was such a hassle and a tire on your already aching feet. Maybe there was a way you could push it off until tomorrow? Or the next week? If you were really good, maybe until the next month. 

“hiya, doll.”

In your focused state, you didn’t see a certain someone pop into view under the kitchen’s archway. You clutched your chest, trying to calm your speeding heart, and twisted to face him with slightly furrowed eyebrows.

His nightshirt was unbuttoned at the top, showing off his sternum, while the rest seemed like it had been messily tussled with. A light scoff escaped your lips; it was clear that in his drowsy state, Sans didn’t bother with accurately closing his pajama top. Hell, it felt like he barely managed to put it on before trudging his way out of bed.

You heard feet shuffling towards you and the next thing you knew, a hand came over your love handle. It tenderly held the extra chub there while his other hand held the fridge open as Sans peered inside. He let out a low gruff hum, almost like he was in disapproval of the state of the food left. Then, at the absent sight of his favorite drink, his eyes widened and his grin fell.

Damn it, you were going to have to go to town today, weren’t you?

As if he could read your thoughts, Sans ruffled your hair and smirked. “aw, dun look so disappointed, sweetheart. tell ya what, i think boss can take ya down.” 

Well, now you _really_ didn’t want to go. 

A weight of guilt hit your shoulders. You knew that you didn’t hate Papyrus but he certainly wasn’t the most compassionate out of the two. You felt like you were walking on eggshells whenever he was around. Although now that you thought of it, Papyrus was usually the most absent one as he was always the one to go on countless meetings and ‘business trips.’

Maybe this would help the two of you form a better connection. Yeah, you had hope for this!

“aww, lookitcha,” Sans held your chin, lifting your head as he admired the optimism in your eye. There was something on the tip of his tongue, something he wanted to say, but before the words could slip out, a series of loud thuds notified the both of you that Papyrus was coming down the stairs.

“SANS!”

“heh, right on time.” With a farewell wink, Sans slipped out of the kitchen, leaving you to assume that he either ran away or went to meet his brother. When Papyrus stepped into view, obviously searching for someone, you assumed the former.

Wow, he looked like he was about to blow. You were starting to resent Sans for simply leaving you to deal with his brother on your own but you supposed that if there was one thing – out of many – you were lacking, it was respect.

Well, here went nothing. “M-Master…”

Papyrus sharply turned his head in your direction, “WHAT?” Squinted, glaring eyes bore through you, as if annoyed by your mere presence. You never understood why he hated you so. It made you feel rotten, spoiled, like a mushy apple that forced its way onto his dinner plate. 

Unwanted.

Suddenly, an uncomfortable emotion crawled onto his features and he crossed his arms, tightly gripping onto the junctions of his elbows. “I MEAN… GO ON, TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG.” 

This was the exact reason why you could never bring yourself to abhor him. Sure, he was rough around the edges but a part of you – some deep, deep part inside – knew that he wasn’t all nails and cut glass. There was something _more_ to him.

You had hope for this trip.

You took a deep breath, fisting the material of your uniform in a clammy hold, “Master Sans said that you could take me to town, please…” Towards the end, your words became quieter and seemed more like a question rather than a statement. You could already imagine his face scrunching with distaste, eyeing you down like a grimy bug. However, when you finally raised your eyes up to him, he had a much more pensive appearance. 

“HMM, THE ONE WITH THE AUTO SHOP?”

You nodded.

“AND THE BAKERY?”

You nodded once more with a small grin – you’d never been there before! It had looked so expensive that you felt guilty buying anything from it out of pocket and your Masters never sent you there for any errand. 

Papyrus stroked his mandible, mumbling to himself as he thought about your request. “ALRIGHT, LET’S GO.” And off he went to the garage, another place you weren’t allowed in before since you knew absolutely nothing about cars. You weren’t even sure what kind of vehicle either of the brothers had.

Two new things in one day? What luck!

“Yes, Master.”

⸻

And so now you were sitting on very soft, luxurious leather, staring out the car window and seeing how fast the trees blurred together as the vehicle sped its way past them. 

Vivacious classical music was playing at a low volume while the two of you sat in silence. The air was a bit tense as this was the first time you had been in a car since a _very_ long time but the beautiful greenery helped calm you down. It was both a curse and a blessing to live in the middle of the woods; the sights were absolutely wonderful but getting anywhere was such a pain.

The engine revved angrily as Papyrus weaved in and out of the road, surpassing the speed limit by several miles. By the time the two of you reached your destination, you were sure your heart was racing just as fast as he was.

You stepped out and fixed your petticoat before bumping into him. Your forehead barely reached the midsection of his waist and so when you craned your head to meet his gaze, you felt the muscles of your neck strain tightly. 

His sharp, crooked fangs gleamed in the midday sun while the black of his clothes was a noticeable deep ebony; a color rich enough to get lost in if one were to stare long enough. He appeared downright menacing.

“COME ALONG THEN, HUMAN. WE DON’T HAVE ALL DAY.”

“Yessir.”

When the two of you began to stroll down the sidewalk, it was a completely different experience compared to when you’d come here by yourself: not a single person or creature cared to bother you. There were no catcalls, no names, no whistles! 

It left you such a bittersweet taste on your tongue. On one hand, you were grateful for Papyrus’ demonic look that appeared to ward everyone off but on the other hand, it really spoke badly of the society as a whole… What? Did you need some man in order to suddenly gain respect? 

Whatever. God, you needed something to distract from the apparent cattiness you were starting to gain. 

Finally, the grocery store was coming into view. That was something you could use to divert your attention from your sudden anger.

As you stepped in, with Papyrus having to duck his head from the sliding door entrance in order to enter, you were hit with the familiar smell of artisinal goods and fruit. 

“Oh!” 

From the pocket of your dress came a crumpled list filled with ingredients and supplies to buy. Once again, you glanced up to him, trying to see if he was going to go off on his own. Though surprisingly, he was waiting for you to do… something. You couldn't pinpoint it until a large bony hand plucked the paper from you. 

Annndd he was off, leaving you to scramble for a cart before rushing after him. “Master, wait!” By the time you arrived, you were out of breath from having to practically jog after him since his long legs carried him swiftly and rapidly. As soon as you registered him amongst the crowd of people watching him strangely, you lightly laughed. There was something so homey about him deciding between two packages of bread, bringing both closer to properly read the labels on the back, before finally choosing one and discarding the other in its rightful place.

This was the process both of you went through on repeat as you went down the list of goods. Soon enough, you found yourself wandering away from the cart and towards a shelf stack with a variety of potted plants. A small ceramic jardiniere, decorated with carvings of weeping willow trees and hummingbirds. In it sat a single succulent; a rather weird choice for such an ornamented pot but it made sense to you in a familiar, albeit quirky, way.

In such an entranced state, you failed to notice a stumbling figure headed your way. It wasn’t until the reeking stench of vodka and a specific chemical-like substance perforated your nose when you finally turned to meet a man. A man whose clothes were sloppy in a wicked manner, whose hair laid in greasy strands, whose stubble was stained with a brownish-yellow. A man whom you knew from _before._

Before Sans found you.

Before the two stole you away.

Before, when you were forced against your will to work the shift of the night with sticky bodies and countless upon countless of ‘clients.’

Time froze. The things around you seemed to buzz and vibrate as you just stood there. Everything else looked so distant while the man was coming closer and closer. 

_“I got enough money for a blow, you workin’ right now?”_

His voice. There was something about his voice that sounded so warbled, like if it wasn’t real. Like if all of this was a surreal dream. 

He grabbed onto your arm and started tugging impatiently to lead you somewhere. Like a blind fool, you started walking, albeit reluctantly, with him. You weren’t sure why you were listening to this man, why you didn’t put up a fight, why you didn’t scream and shout. Your body was moving on its own and again, you felt like you were watching yourself instead of being present in the actual moment. How did that even make sense?

“EXCUSE ME,” Claws wrapped around the man’s wrist, gripping and pricking his skin harshly, which made him pause in his actions. As the drunkard looked up and up and up, a sheet of terror overcame him. It made sense considering Papyrus was so shaken with fury, he looked like the damned devil himself.

“I BELIEVE THAT IS _MY_ OWN HUMAN THAT YOU’RE PUTTING YOUR FILTHY HANDS ON.” His words were spat out with disgust towards the other, carved teeth trickling with repulsion. You felt a gentle yet firm hold on your shoulder, guiding you behind Papyrus as he dealt with the situation at hand. It was just then that you realized you were trembling wildly. 

The inebriate curled his lip – not at Papyrus, no, but at _you._ As if he were suddenly so filled repugnance at the sight of you willingly choosing a monster over a human.

_“Dirty monster fucker…”_ Just as he turned to leave, his jacket was caught by a glowing carmine shard of bone. You turned towards Papyrus only to see a bright flare of his singular eyelight; the air pulsated with heat and the midnight black of his sockets sucked you in, making it hard to breathe. 

He was going to kill this man. 

A crowd was starting to form, hushed whisperings spread thinly across. Worried faces of strangers turned to each other as if asking themselves what to do with such a threatening scenario. 

So, you did the only thing you could think of: you clutched onto Papyrus’ suit and tugged weakly, internally begging him to give you the time of day and look at you. And look he did, with anger still apparent but with a veil of astonishment as well. 

“Please, _please,”_ Your eyes were wet, something warm dripped down the side of your flush cheek, “let’s go…”

A few seconds, a few _agonizing_ seconds, passed with nothing but intense silence. 

To your disbelief, Papyrus actually called off his attack. 

You were so shaken that you didn’t quite hear what he told the man before turning away and heading towards the abandoned shopping cart. Before walking away, however, Papyrus guided you close to him, taking you away once more from a horrible, horrible deal. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWs: Dissociation, mentions of forced sex work


	4. strangely, i feel safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tws at the bottom!
> 
> thx you for your comments, i really enjoy them and they honestly make my day <3

After the horrific incident, the two of you rushed to get everything done for the day which mainly involved buying whatever was on that list. You didn’t even get to go to the bakery because according to Papyrus, he didn’t want to have to deal with another close call like that. You blankly wondered what he meant though a part of you knew that cold-blooded murder would’ve been involved. But at the moment, you didn’t really know or care for the true significance. You just wanted to go back. 

Papyrus’ hand gripped the leather gear stick, making the skin squeal and whine under its pressure. If you thought his driving was erratic before, now it was twofold. “I’M SURPRISED THEY ALLOWED SCUM LIKE THAT THROUGH THE DOOR… THE STORE REALLY HAS DEGRADED IN THEIR SECURITY. IF IT WERE UP TO ME–”

His words garbled into a torpid mess that went through one ear and out the other. You simply nodded and said the occasional, “yes, Master,” to appear as if you were listening. You felt… numb. As if none of what was happening was real, as if you weren’t really  _ you _ but your body continued to move against its will. Just like at that moment back in the store. 

You  _ really _ fucking hated yourself right now. You hated how you basically had no will of your own in instances that mattered, you hated that you bent to some stranger’s will and you especially hated that if it weren’t for Papyrus, who knows what would’ve happened.

Distorted images of your previous work – you refused to call it for what it truly was: slavery – kept running in your head over and over. A lot of it you had managed to swallow down, never wanting it to emerge into the light of day ever again but now, everything was spilling out uncontrollably. 

Before you knew it, more tears blurred your vision and trailed down the sides of your face. You glanced at the rearview mirror, meeting Papyrus’ gaze for a split second. Crap. You quickly turned away and faced the side window, focusing on the passing buildings.

God, you wished the car seat would swallow you whole and make you disappear.

During the rest of the ride, not a single word was spoken. 

Within half an hour, the mansion’s front gates were noticeable. It only took a couple more minutes to finally arrive. You waited patiently for the now parked car to unlock its doors but that moment never came. Too anxious to turn towards the driver’s side, you continued to rock your foot repeatedly as the seconds ticked by.

What was he waiting for? 

Talons tapped against the steering wheel as if he were thinking about what to possibly say. His mouth opened and closed a few times like he was about to speak but changed his mind at the last minute. 

This was going nowhere so you decided to ease his mind. 

“Master, I’m fine, really.” When he didn’t answer, you wrung your hands and spoke some more, “it was just a bad… encounter but it’s passed.”

“I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT AS LONG AS YOU LIVE, YOU WON’T HAVE TO EVER GO BACK TO… THAT. NOT ANYMORE AT LEAST.” His face was a stern yet slightly flush mess. It was clear that comforting was new territory for Papyrus but it warmed your heart to know that he was actually  _ trying _ to do his best.

Well, here came the waterworks. You bit your lip harshly and looked away, refusing to talk since you feared you would hiccup or sob. So instead, you held your breath and forced your racing chest to calm down.

Now it was him who was waiting for you tolerantly. 

When you were ready, you spoke a hush, “thank you,” and with that, he gave a stiff nod and unlocked the doors for the both of you to step out.

⸻

It was the next day and rain pitter-pattered against large window panes, a loud rattling echoed throughout the halls as wind blew against the wooden frames.

It was such a muddy day, both literally  _ and _ metaphorically.

Both of your Masters were away on a sudden visit they had to pay to someone; they never specified who but you knew it was best to avoid sticking your nose in places that didn’t belong. 

Goosebumps trailed your neck as you recalled the first time you snooped around your Masters’ business. 

While tidying up the basement, you came across a bin that laid opened. Curiosity got the best of you and had you skulking around the plastic tub. Scrolls filled with illegible scribbles and symbols along with giant sketches of contraptions that looked like heavy-duty machinery – or, now that you thought of it, weaponry – covered the midsection of the paper stacks. 

In reality, you understood none of it but you had always been fond of art and the drawings were something only a true artist could make. Your calloused fingertips traced the markings until a slow inhale, as if someone were smoking, stunned you with terror. 

You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was…

Forcing yourself to come back to the present, you paused your sweeping and looked towards the front door. Little drips of cold water hooked onto you, stirring up pleasant memories which was a more-than-welcome surprise. 

There was something you always did as a child with your father when it rained: the two of you would stop whatever it was you were doing and run out the door to simply  _ enjoy _ every last second of it. There, the two of you would watch as the streets became slick with wet and shiver at the chilled breeze. One word that came to mind whenever you thought of your father was academic – he'd always take the moment to teach you about the most random of things. You remembered his talks of the different types of clouds, how far a lightning bolt was based on how long the shattering ' _ boom!' _ would take to reach your frigid ears, and one thing he would rant about relentlessly: space.

Space, with all of its twinkling stars and mind-engulfing galaxies. The concept of it all, of being such a tiny particle on an even tinier speck of dirt and water in the middle of such blackness, was daunting. It swallowed you up and overwhelmed you in your younger years but as you grew, tragedies happening left and right, you felt calm with space and its nebula clouds and planets and stars.

It was only until the later years when his mind began to slow down. It was funny, you thought. A sick, twisted kind of humor. The decline of his memory was the thing that sent him to an early grave – made him forget how to even take his last choking breath.

By the end of your walk down memory lane, you had reached the entrance of the mansion, twisting the icy door handle open and stepping out. 

The sky sprinkled down on you; it streaked down your face, left damp strands of hair in its wake, and splashed onto your clothes. The tip of your nose blushed as you spent more time outside in the autumn air. Your body trembled with excitement. As cliche as it was, you felt something. You felt  _ free. _ Free of judgment, free of orders, free of your chattering mind. 

The sound of rocks cracking under the weight of a car's wheel caught your attention. In the distance, a sleek vehicle – the color of the darkest night – rolled up the hill and into the driveway. The fogged glass made it hard to see who was in it but with the high unlikeliness of somebody else besides your Masters coming onto the property, you had your answer.

Sans lumbered out of the passenger’s seat, placing his hat over his skull in an attempt to prevent the raindrops from showering him as much. It didn’t work out as good as he’d wanted it to. 

“damn rain,” he muttered lowly before laying his eyelights on you. A sly half-smile appeared and he picked up his pace, “doll, whaddaya doin’ out here? it’s freezin’, yer gonna catch a cold.” 

You shrugged similar to a child caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. He airily shook his head, in a clear jovial yet exhausted mood. Placing a wide palm that nearly covered your entire back along with hovering the stylish hat over you, he began taking you inside to the much warmer abode. 

You loved this side of Sans – the side that took care of you, that protected you maybe a little too much. It made you feel lightheaded and fuzzy like a high schooler going out on their first date. 

From the corner of your eye, Papyrus unfurled his spindly limbs from the car, standing at full length and striding up beside you and his brother. Between the two, it felt as if nothing could hurt you.

And maybe, just maybe, nothing would anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWs: Dissociation, mention of a family death
> 
> poor pap he tryin :(( anyways, im having a lot of fun with this series and i hope y'all are too!


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